


All Fired Up

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Department Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Colleagues - Freeform, Coworkers - Freeform, Department Store, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Language, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Sales Clerk - Freeform, Secret Crush, Security Guard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: For nine long months, Sandor Clegane has harbored a secret crush on Sansa Stark, who is one of his coworkers at Lannister's Department Store.  Too full of self-doubt to tell her how he truly feels, it isn't until Sansa is fired from her job that Sandor finally has the balls to make a move.  And much to his surprise and delight, he's not the only one with an impressive pair of cojones (metaphorically speaking, of course).





	All Fired Up

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written after talking with a Tumblr buddy and hearing about her horrible experiences at her workplace. For all of you readers out there who have suffered from not only a hostile work environment but have lost a job without just cause, please enjoy this fluffy ball of silliness as Sandor realizes that getting fired was the best thing that could have happened to him!
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

“Hey, Little Bird, what’s the matter?” Sandor rasped as he knelt down beside the sobbing redhead sitting all alone on the employee entrance steps in the rear of Lannister’s Department Store.

“I’m…I’m just…” Sansa tried to speak in between gasps for air.

Sandor sighed heavily, glancing at his watch.  His shift started in less than fifteen minutes.  He hated to be late for work.  Fucking Lannisters.  Jaime would be sure to let Sandor know that his pay would be docked for being late, and then his pain in the ass younger brother, Tyrion, would smirk that little impish smirk of his that he pulled whenever they put Sandor in his place.  How Sandor despised being reminded how lucky he was to even be working at a fancy, upscale place like theirs.

Sandor looked at Sansa again as she continued to try to compose herself.  Her mascara was streaking, her nose was running, and her eyes were puffing up horribly.  Damn him straight to hell if she didn’t look as mesmerizing as always.

Knowing full-well that he would suffer for his tardiness, Sandor rose from his spot on the sidewalk where he was kneeling, moving to sit next to Sansa on the steps.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Sandor asked, watching Sansa grab her purse from the ground at her feet and rifle through the contents until she unearthed a scrap of tissue.

“Cersei…she and Melara and Jeyne…” Sansa muttered, her words trailing off when she latched the tissue onto her nose and blew with all her might.

The heinous, unladylike sound emanating from the gorgeous, albeit upset, creature next to him caused Sandor’s one good eyebrow to raise almost to his hairline.

“They were talking about someone…saying just horrible, mean things…and when I told them to stop…” Sansa sputtered, sniffing and snorting while dabbing her dampened eyes.

“What did they do?” Sandor pressed, not sure where this line of conversation was headed.

“They got me fired,” Sansa replied, almost in a whisper.

Hearing that got Sandor’s blood up instantly.  Fucking Cersei and her minions.  God, how he hated that cunt.  Daddy’s little girl and the prima donna of the business.  She never had to work a day in her pampered, spoiled life.  All she ever did was parade her skinny blonde ass around the department store, running her mouth and making sure that everyone on staff knew their place.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa,” Sandor sighed again, wishing to all the gods both known and unknown that right here, right now, he was man enough to put his massive arm around the svelte, pale young lady.  Sansa was the sweetest, kindest, most pure person that he had ever had the opportunity to meet in his 27 years on this miserable planet.  She was so damn young to be on her own already in this world, and if she wasn’t careful, people like Cersei would eat her up and shite her out just for the hell of it.

And, apparently as of this evening, Cersei had finally managed to do just that.

“It’s OK, Sandor…” Sansa sniffed one final time, scrubbing her nose furiously, stuffing her well-used tissue back into her purse and turning to look up into his face.  How the pretty little bird could look at his scarred-up mug like he was any other bloke never ceased to amaze him.  Not once in the almost nine months that she had worked at Lannister’s in the Children’s Department did Sansa ever act afraid or repulsed by him.

“Fuck that,” Sandor growled, snorting in distaste at the thought that yet again ‘Lady Sansa,’ so full of all things polite and courteous, was going to sit back and take it.  When would she every learn how the world really works?  “It’s not OK.  It’s not OK for Cersei to get away with treating you like she does.”  Shaking his head in disgust, Sandor’s shoulder-length black hair cascaded down into his gray eyes.  “One day, she’ll get what she deserves.”

“Would you listen to this one?” Sansa barely smiled at him, tilting her head to the side so she was now looking up at him through her thick lashes.  “Always the knight, so brave and gallant.”

That snarky comment got his attention.

“Not a knight, _my lady_ ,” Sandor laughed, unable to hide his amusement at her jest.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sansa countered as she shoved a few stray strands of her copper tresses out of her mischievous blue eyes.

When Sansa leaned into him unexpectedly, bumping his upper arm with her shoulder as they sat next to one another, he literally felt his throat constrict.  All these months that he had spent gazing upon her from afar as he patrolled the department store, waiting for some ass-munch to bust for shoplifting, Sandor had quietly stewed in his own self-loathing.

Even though they had built a solid work-related friendship over the last several months, not once did Sandor envision someone as radiant and effervescent as Sansa Stark ever considering a broken man like him.  She could have any man in that damn store she wanted.  Hell, every single man in the entire establishment had tried to hit on her at least once.

Funny, though, she never once paid a one of them any mind, come to think of it.

“You’d best be going, Sandor,” Sansa giggled as she reached out to him, brushing the hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his good ear, “Wouldn’t want another person getting fired today, now would we?”

Between witnessing the playful, upturned quirk of her lips and feeling the touch of her well-manicured nails grazing his skin, Sandor could feel his manhood nuzzling his zipper fly.  Jesus H. Christ, the lady could fire him up with the simplest, most innocuous of gestures.  Heaven help him if one day he actually…nah, that was ridiculous.  Sansa Stark was his friend, a colleague…well, former colleague at work.  Nothing more.

“I suppose you’re right,” Sandor answered hoarsely, coughing to cover up his obvious flustered state as her hand travelled ever so slowly downward, deliberately touching the marred, raised ridges of his burnt cheek.  He knew that he really, _really_ needed to get his giant ass up and head into the store, to march into the security office to badge in for his shift, and to start his monotonous job as always.  Yet Sandor couldn’t move.  His long, long legs wouldn’t budge.  It was like someone had painted his butt with Gorilla Glue and shoved him onto the step where he sat.

Sansa Stark was touching him.  Touching him willingly, like she did that every fucking day, for Christ’s sake.

“I’ll miss seeing you,” Sansa suddenly blurted out, her bright blue eyes widening at her admission.  As the words floated in time and space, she retracted her hand abruptly, clearing her throat as she stared aimlessly at her hands now neatly and primly folded in her lap.

“You will?” Sandor gaped dumbly.  What in the hell…

“Yeah…” she said so softly he almost couldn’t hear her reply, “I will."

Looking over his shoulder, Sandor blinked unhurriedly as his eyes fixated on the entrance door to the rear of the department store.  It was time for him to report for duty.  He was lucky to have this job.  Not every man with a face like his could find gainful employment that happened to pay as well as this gig did.

But then, not every man with a face like his could find a woman like Sansa.

“Want to go grab a bite to eat?” Sandor offered before he could stop himself, still staring at the enormous metal door.

“But…you’re supposed to be at work?” Sansa gasped as Sandor’s head swiveled to face her.  “You can’t just _not_ show up, Sandor!”

“Like hell I can’t,” he chuckled darkly.  He knew that he was taking a huge, beastly risk right now.  Sandor wasn’t a gambling sort of man, but right now, he was rattling the pair of dice and about to place a line bet.

“You’ll be fired, you know,” Sansa said firmly, almost as if she were his mother scolding him for breaking curfew.  Now why in the hell did that seem sexy?  Fuck, he really needed to get his head examined.

“Don’t care, really,” Sandor sniffed, entertained at his own internal monologue.

“Really?” she asked in amazement.

“Really,” he smirked in return.

“Wow,” Sansa gushed, looking down at her black pumps before looking him squarely in the eye.  “You’d do that for me?”

“I would,” Sandor nodded as he rose to his feet.  Yanking his name tag off his uniform, he studied it for a brief moment before he chucked it to the ground.  “Hotpie’s sound good to you?”  On a roll now, Sandor offered her his hand.  “My treat.  And I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.  There’s no way I can fit into that little foreign import of yours.”

“I would love that!  Lead the way!” Sansa laughed boisterously, her smile beaming up at him as she delicately placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet.

As the pair began to walk down the steps and toward the section of the parking lot where Lannister’s employees placed their vehicles, Sansa didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Sandor didn’t let go of her hand.  Escorting her to his truck in an awkward yet somehow comforting silence, he really, _really_ wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he was actually awake and that this wasn’t one of those damn dreams of his.

When they arrived at Sandor's vehicle, she quickly spun on her heels, rising to her tip toes and planting a chaste kiss on Sandor’s bearded cheek.

“What was that for?” he smiled down at her in total incredulity.

“For being my champion,” Sansa grinned at him, swaying ever-so-slightly as she waited for him to open her door.

“So that’s all it took to get you on a date, eh?” Sandor teased her as she slid into his oversized black truck.

“Well, it’s not every day a man willingly allows himself to get fired for you,” Sansa began as Sandor moved to shut her door.

While rounding the front of his truck, desperately trying to not leap into the air and click his boot-covered heels, Sandor remembered something that Sansa has mentioned earlier in their conversation while sitting together on the steps of Lannister’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Sandor wondered as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“Sure!” Sansa chirped cheerfully, adjusting her purse in her lap and looking directly at him.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Who was who?” she countered, her ginger brows furrowing at his question.

“You know, the person for whom you were willing to risk your job to defend?” Sandor asked again as he began to back up his truck, shifting the gears into drive and exiting the parking lot.

“Oh,” Sansa replied.

“Is it a secret?” Sandor taunted her as he drove.

“Not anymore,” she stated seriously.  Reaching across the middle console to place her hand on Sandor’s muscular thigh, she tentatively rubbed his leg through his dress pants as she stared hard at the side of his head.

The sensation of her smooth, pale fingers caressing his body in languid, deliberate strokes nearly made him jerk the steering wheel and cause a wreck.

“I wish you could’ve seen Cersei’s face when I told her to watch her fucking mouth right before I drove my fist into it,” Sansa continued as she met Sandor’s stupefied expression, “God, that felt absolutely _amazing_.”  And before Sandor could get his rapidly short-circuiting brain to fire correctly, Sansa shot him a sinfully wicked grin, “And so does this, by the way.”

Bloody buggering hell.  Sandor couldn’t believe it.  Sansa, his elegant, dignified little bird not only told Cersei off, but the stunning redhead had gone out in a blaze of glory all because of...him.

And she was touching him again.

Talk about getting a man all fired up…

**Author's Note:**

> "My career is inexplicable to me. So far I've just been not getting fired despite being myself." - Nick Offerman


End file.
